


Policy of Truth

by stealth camouflage (surrealist_cupcake)



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, Post MGS3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrealist_cupcake/pseuds/stealth%20camouflage
Summary: I feel like Eva gets neglected a lot so have some very short fic. Ocelot feels bad about being mean to her and is slightly less of a dick though he still hates her. I could have made this fic more detailed but I didn’t wanna be boring. Also the wiki says Nixon attended the birth of Les Enfants Terribles which is weird but understandable for the metal gear universe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I like never post fic so sorry about the title being cheesy. I couldn't think of anything really.

It was an unspoken fact that they’d named David after Zero. Eli was different, he was the ‘control’ as they’d said. She told herself she wouldn’t, but Eva ended up looking. Thin tufts of hair peeking out from hats on top of heads that were red from crying. No, she looked away quickly putting on her coat to leave, though she really wasn’t allowed to. President Nixon and his entourage had left hours ago  
She spent the first night crying in a shabby motel drinking cheap wine. She couldn’t understand why she cried, she regretted nothing. She was always raised to be a spy, maternal instincts wouldn’t have fit into the curriculum at a Philosopher charm school, but she couldn’t help thinking of that one glimpse of Eli’s light blonde hair. Just like hers, though Doctor Clark explained it that neither of them would carry any of her genetic information. Would David look just like him? If he ever met her would he give her the same look of betrayal that John had?

 

After weeks biking across the States, Zero sent Ocelot of all people to collect her. She nearly spit out her drink, first from shock and then from laughing. His newly found Clint Eastwood look was jarring, if predictable.  
“Fine, I get it, you win, you son of a bitch. Just lemme have one more drink.”  
“Ugh we don’t have time, Eva.” He grumbled, Eva giggling at his new accent.  
“What, Adamska, too busy turning John against me. You, know, I should’ve fucking seen it coming that you only went along with it only to rat me out to him later so you could have him all to yourself.” Tequila wasn’t something she enjoyed, but she wasn’t at some biker bar to taste fine wines.  
“You’ve had too much to drink, let’s get a move on. I even rented a truck to hitch your bike to.” He said patting her shoulder.  
“Nuh-uh.” She said wagging her finger at him. “No, I’m not riding in a stuffy truck with you for god-knows-how-long.”  
“Well I’m not letting you drive like this.” He said helping her down from the bar stool. 

“Why’d you do it, Adam?” Eva said, leaning against him.  
“Do what now?” Ocelot said, not prepared for Eva to be an emotional drunk.  
“I know you’re the one that told him.”  
“Eva -I”  
“I know you’ve never liked me, that you were always jealous. You couldn’t have John, so you threw me under the bus.” Ocelot took a frustrated breath.  
“Whatever’s between us, that’s not why I told him. I did it because it was right. He never would have wanted it, you all knew damn well that he didn’t. He was going to find out sooner than later. You can’t expect me to lie to him.”  
“But you wanted to be the one to tell him. You’re full of shit Adam.” She murmured. 

The car ride was a miserable affair for both. Eva sobbed loudly along to some inconsequential Patsy Cline song before crying herself to sleep in the passenger seat. Ocelot had been taken entirely off guard. Eva had gone through similar training to him, she was taught to keep her emotions under calculated control. Ocelot still didn’t like the woman, but the satisfaction of being the one to tell John long since passed. John was almost just as angry at him. Ocelot had truly been ambivalent about the project, he could have told him at any time, but he didn’t. The bitterness he felt was replaced by a bizarre pity for the wretched woman he’d many times wronged. It was a feeling he decided he hated.  
Eva woke up trying to pull her jacket over her face to block the morning sun. She eventually gave up, looking out the window of the truck instead.  
“It’s not just John, it’s those boys, isn’t it?”  
“Fuck off.”  
“I know, I know, it’s none of my business, but I could set something up where you got sent a photograph once in a while.”  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea-”  
“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” Ocelot didn’t want her to thank him, he just wanted to appease her to stop being wracked with feelings he’d long hoped himself incapable of.  
They even stopped at a diner in Pennsylvania, though it was partially so that she wouldn’t vomit all over the truck.  
By the time they reached their rendez-vous in New Jersey Eva was back to normal, eager to receive a new mission. Ocelot made sure we was sent pictures of the boys, but they didn’t see each other again until 1975, days after the original Mother Base was attacked.


End file.
